


I'll hold on a little tighter (maybe you'll stay the night)

by glittercake



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 40's twink Bucky, Alternate Universe - Office, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Desk Sex, Getting Together, Grumpy jacked up Steve, Light Bondage, M/M, Nomad Steve, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Wall Sex, colleagues with benefits to lovers, plot if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-10 19:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20140522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittercake/pseuds/glittercake
Summary: "No strings. I ain't got time for strings." Steve murmurs.Bucky nods helplessly."Be discreet." Steve continues kissing his neck and talking, now also rubbing and squeezing his thigh. "Condoms, always. Back out anytime you want. And sweetheart—""Hm?" Bucky hums in a delirious daze as Steve works all the way down to his collarbone and bites, making Bucky jolt forward."I like it rough, don't do it any other way. If that ain't your thing, we gotta call it off right now."





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes first sees Rogers when he starts his new job at Rogers & Stark Partners.

He's an hour early and sitting at Natasha's desk, who is as of today both his roommate and colleague.

She nods to a couple of people, tells him who they are, what they do there, but Bucky knows most of them just from the stories Natasha tells him at home. 

Stark, Bucky has gathered, is the cool boss. The one who orders take out for the entire office on Fridays, jokes around with everyone and probably knows each staff member by name. She never talks about Rogers, though. Not in animated detail and delight the way she does Stark.

She shows him a few more people that are need-to-knows and tops up their coffees a little before eight when a radiant man walks in with a tailored grey suit, carrying a leather briefcase. He smiles and stops to greet everyone on his way in. He's serenaded with a coy 'good morning, sir' probably a hundred times over. 

"Stark?" he asks, tipping his cup in the man's direction. 

"Yeah. The nice one."

"Is he that bad? The other guy. Can anyone be that bad?"

Bucky hasn't even seen him come in yet, but he's picturing some Al Pacino looking fucker the way Nat carries on.

"Really into work, I guess, doesn't interact much, never smiles, hardly talks to anyone unless it's a meeting. He generally terrifies people. And a guy like that—"

She's interrupted—hell everyone is interrupted—when the double frosted glass doors behind Nat's desk swing open. The office goes silent, even Stark stops. He's the only one still smiling though.

Bucky turns to see what the hell is going on and it's the equivalent of his life flashing before his eyes, he thinks, and he knows why everyone is staring now.

The guy is enormous, suited up in a navy three-piece that spans around his arms like it's holding onto the last fiber. He's got a thick, dark beard and a mop of dirty blonde hair combed back. Quintessentially put together. He looks like a goddamn Gucci add. He's so gorgeous it's disgusting, it's not right, and Bucky thinks: please don't be _'the other boss'_ it'll make getting his attention that much easier if he's not.

But, in his ear and much to his dismay, Nat whispers, "That's Mr. Rogers. The other—"

"Yeah. The other boss. Got it." he hisses back, kind of pissed now that it's confirmed.

Mr. Rogers proceeds to scowl at the entire floor who stares in anxious silence. He's jacked up to the max, probably has those frown lines permanently etched between his eyes — not someone you fuck with. 

"Tony." Rogers says, "In my office. The rest of you get to work. It's goddamn eight o'clock."

To Bucky's horror, Rogers' eyes fall on him, giving him an irritated once over and somehow that makes his frown grow even deeper, "And someone get this guy something to do. Christ."

There are a few tense seconds when Bucky blinks, and Rogers' doesn't move, stares at him, even though his hand is on the doorknob and Stark's walking up to greet him.

"Now!" Rogers growls in the general direction of the office, breaking their gaze before the office erupts in a buzz again. People scurry about to get busy where before they'd been standing around making idle chit chat.

Stark shakes Rogers' hand and laughs, Rogers shows him inside, with one colossal hand splayed between his shoulder blades, and shuts the door behind him. But not before Bucky manages a glimpse of his ass.

"Stoppp." says Natasha, "Don't even go there Barnes. Unattainable."

"Wanna bet?"

"Oh, come on. You'd have to break through seven layers of ice just to get him to interact with you. Then you'd have to convince him to leave the office for more than three hours to actually spend time with the guy. Not worth it."

"Maybe he's grumpy because you're all so fucking judgy huh?" Bucky raises a brow at Nat which gets him an eye roll, "You ever try bringing him coffee?"

"No," she says like he's dumb, "I like my head on my shoulders thanks, not bitten off and spat out."

Nat does as Rogers instructed. Her and a guy called Scott from finance pile Bucky with files that need sorting and processing onto a data system. 

His first week is spent doing that and ogling the hell out of Mr. Rogers. He only gets glares and frowns in return, sometimes Rogers looks at him when he thinks Bucky doesn't realize. Other than that he's not around much.

The following Monday Nat thinks he's done enough training and tells him that the longest outstanding accounts are taken directly to Steve, but doesn't tell him straight away who Steve is.

Steve sounds like someone you'd find in accounting for sure, and Bucky tries to guess if it's the middle-aged guy in a plaid shirt and khakis or the skinny kid with a combover.

So naturally, Natasha thinks it's pretty hilarious when she points to the frosted glass doors, and Bucky only now notices 'S.G Rogers' written on one pane and Senior Partner on the other in fat, black print. Well shit.

"You remember what I told you about each of those now," she says with a stupid, wicked grin and ushers him in the direction of the doors.

He hisses, "Hate you." to her and takes a deep breath. He is epically unprepared to be in the same room as this man. He's not even properly dressed seeing that every other person has a suit and tie on and he's got an open collar, black shirt and slacks on. Hardly screams newbie who takes this shit seriously. Plus his hair's a little long probably.

Of course, Steve doesn't even look up when Bucky enters. He is glowering at the computer screen, the blue light makes him look even scarier.

"Natasha." Steve says pleasantly enough for someone who looks like they got their breakfast spat in, "Here to give me the—oh."

And finally, he looks at Bucky. "Where is Natasha?"

Bucky clears his throat, "I'm the new guy. On training. Got placed on briefing duty, Mr. Rogers." he holds up the stack of files.

This seems to amuse Steve. He sits back in his long-back leather chair and folds his hands across his belly. "Alright. Sit. And call me Steve."

Steve nods to the chair at the other side of his desk. And well, when a man like this tells you to sit (or get on your knees and open your mouth) well, you fucking do it.

"And your name is?"

Bucky is now acutely aware of the tie he refused to wear this morning since it brings a fiery frown to Steve's face. 

"James Barnes. Bucky. People call me Bucky."

"Right. What've you got for me, James." Steve asks and gets back to work on his laptop. 

Now, this man is goddamn gorgeous. Bucky's going to have to work at keeping his wits about him. Which is hard when Steve's hands are twice the size of his own probably, those knuckles so rough and bruised from boxing maybe? Punching bags? 

Aside from this, he's got an icy disposition about him, something hard and frosty in his gaze that makes you want to crawl under the desk and avert it. 

But despite him being so incredibly intimidating, Bucky gets a hint of sadness, perhaps loneliness if he were to be bold about it. Behind the jacked-up, no-nonsense exterior, there is something soft.

Bucky starts reading out the outstanding accounts along with Nat's notes while Steve types, shuffling some files around, occasionally he asks Bucky for the page he's reading from to check for something on it. He's invested in what he does, doesn't look at Bucky once. He understands now what Nat meant.

They finish about an hour later, Steve gives him further instructions, and Bucky guesses that's the end of it. He gets his papers together, watching Steve still typing away.

Steve surprises Bucky by getting up and coming around the desk to where Bucky is sitting. He leans back on it, hands in his pockets. 

"Thanks, James," he says flat and calm and with no indication of emotion, just the barest hint of something Bucky can't place. 

His thighs spread, pressed against the desk, and Bucky tries very very hard not let his eyes fall to Steve's lap. He succeeds for the most part, but the effort of it makes him blush. 

"Of course. It's uh, good to learn and all that."

"How's your first week been?" Steve asks, his foot tapping away at the carpet now. 

Honestly, Bucky is shocked the guy's trying to make conversation. "Good." he says, and without thinking looks down at Steve's lap, "Just uh, wish I had a better seat, you know." 

Steve's eyebrow does a light twitch, "Yeah?" he says amused enough to encourage Bucky, "What's wrong with your seat?"

He can't believe he's doing this, he must in-fucking-sane, but he licks his lips and dares another glance at Steve's thighs. 

God. They're good thighs. They're glorious fucking thighs, juiced up enough to crush his skull probably, while he chokes on—

"Just. You know, prefer something a little sturdier, softer." Bucky says, heart pounding, looking back up at Steve, "Bigger… maybe." and damn, he's proper red in his face now. 

It's Steve who bites his lip this time. He looks up at the ceiling, clears his throat. 

"Think we got some seats like that arriving in stock after work today." Steve finally says after several moments of deliberation that had Bucky thinking he's going to get chased off. "You're welcome to swing by and check 'em out."

Bucky blinks up at him. Knows that he can't falter in delicate situations like these, that it's grab and go. And, if he only ends up testing out actual fucking office chairs later, it's not for lack of trying otherwise. 

"Love to." is his prompt response. "Thanks, Mr. Rogers. That's... real generous of you," he says like Steve's doing him the biggest favor. 

Steve's eyes go dark and stormy, and Bucky discovers he has a thing for angry business dudes who could probably snap him in half. 

God, he hopes it's not office chairs. He  _ wants  _ to be snapped in fucking half if this man is the one doing it.

Steve watches him, unmoving, as he leaves and he feels like his entire back is on fire.  
  


Natasha tells him what an awful idea this is despite him jokingly insisting he's just picking out another chair of which Steve is apparently some connoisseur. He gets a smack upside his head for his idiocy. 

Eventually, they laugh about it, and he helps her finish up some paperwork before she heads out. 

"Be careful." she reminds him for the hundredth time and leaves.

Bucky stays behind in the breakroom, patiently waiting for the floor to clear, which is insane because what if Steve really is just going to show him chairs. He shouldn't feel so giddy about fucking chairs. 

By 5.45pm he's done waiting, and to his relief, the office is empty and dimly lit. He heads up to the frosted glass doors where the lights are still on. Bucky's heart takes wild, anxious leaps in his chest. 

The door handle creaks and he pushes it open. Steve's on the phone, facing the door in the chair Bucky used earlier, one leg crossed over his knee. His eyes only lift to Bucky with one slow blink when he enters, and he tips his head to the side.

Bucky follows to where Steve nods, and there is an honest to god row of office chairs, new and fresh and still covered in plastic. Bucky snorts and shakes his head. Well then. 

Steve finishes up the call with "—don't care. Get it done." and hangs up. Bucky's ashamed to admit his dick likes that tone of voice. 

"You got chairs," Bucky says and gives Steve an incredulous look. What kind of hot-headed dork is he? 

Steve ducks his head, Bucky could swear he wants to smile, but he's serious when he looks up again. He's so hard to read, impossible if Bucky's honest, any other guy and this would have been a sealed deal already. He guesses in corporate environments like this Steve can't just whip his cock out and not get slapped with a harassment suit, so he's careful. 

Too careful. Bucky's pretty fucking easy. He's also pretty sure they're on the same page, and this has zero to do with chairs. 

"Said I would, didn't I?" Steve lets his legs fall open, and he settles back in the chair, his hand slides up the inside of his thigh, "Go on. Pick a seat you like." he says. 

Now, that is subtle enough to be a genuine request, wouldn't land him in hot water if Bucky by some off chance was really here for a goddamn chair. And he leaves the ball totally in Bucky's court now. 

Bucky bothers at his lip, takes a deep breath, and starts toward Steve slowly. "Any seat?" 

He stops in front of Steve, looks down at his lap where Steve's hand is splayed flat. 

"Any seat," Steve repeats. His thigh twitches. 

They stare at each other for a century probably, things getting real charged between them.

"James." Steve snaps, "Sit the fuck down." 

Bucky complies instantly, hikes his pants up and straddles over Steve's lap, lets his hands settle over Steve's pecs over the waistcoat. They're huge, rock solid. 

Steve's hands ride up over Bucky's thighs, over his sides and cup his fucking hips like it's nothing. 

He wiggles in Steve's hold, his lip's nearly bit through. 

Steve pulls Bucky down by the back of his neck, Bucky gets ready for a kiss, but Steve twists his head sideways, buries his bearded face Bucky's neck and opens his mouth.

"No strings. I ain't got time for strings." Steve murmurs, then runs the tip of his tongue over Bucky's Adam's apple, and Bucky is putty. 

He nods helplessly, wanting more of the contrast of Steve's soft mouth and coarse beard where he's so sensitive, wants it in other places too. 

"Be discreet." Steve continues kissing his neck and talking, now also rubbing and squeezing his thigh. "Condoms, always. Back out anytime you want. And sweetheart—" 

"Hm?" Bucky hums in a delirious daze as Steve works all the way down to his collarbone and bites, making Bucky jolt forward.

"I like it rough, don't do it any other way. If that ain't your thing, we gotta call it off right now." 

Steve leans back to look at him, waiting for an answer. Bucky just wants that mouth back on him. 

"Mr. Rogers, I'm about to come just from your hand squeezing my hip like this, so…"

"Huh." Steve's looks to where he's holding Bucky, and deliberately tightens his grip. Bucky fucking swoons, his head falls back. Steve is unaffected, "Told you to call me Steve."

And then his other hand is between Bucky's legs rubbing him up through his slacks. Bucky tries to lean in for a kiss but gets diverted again. Weird. But he lets Steve mark his neck up instead, almost comes in his pants but Steve cuts it short, manhandles him onto the desk instead.

Steve's grinding into him, Bucky's dying to see his dick, to taste it, can't even imagine what kind of monster it is if the rest of the guy is anything to go by. 

Bucky brings his hands up to Steve's face only to have them grabbed and pinned above his head with only one of Steve's huge fucking bear paws. It's not a warning really, but it is.  _ Don't get tender with me. Don't catch feelings. Don't make me catch feelings. _

Steve is almost stealth-like in the way he yanks Bucky up and presses him against the wall, stripping his pants off and rummaging to get his own open too. 

Bucky whines something embarrassing when he feels the thick weight of Steve's dick fall against his ass cheek, rubbing up against him. 

Steve's gotten hold of lube, he must have, his fingers are slick when he reaches down between Bucky's legs and starts rubbing hard, "Come on, open up for me." 

Bucky spreads his legs and forces the hungry anticipation to subside and let Steve in. 

"That's it," Steve coaxes as his finger slips inside Bucky and he starts circling it around. 

"Oh fuck, Mr. Rogers…" Bucky's body arches and smiles. He's kind of losing it. 

And yeah, Steve said "call me fucking Steve" but the sound he just made makes Bucky think he gets off on that. 

"You're tight," says Steve and there's a dark smirk on his face that makes Bucky's gut swoop with thrill, "We'll see if I can change that, hm?"

Bucky groans when Steve starts working a second finger in, then a third, "Holy shit." He could just come like this, he could totally come only from Steve's giant fingers up his ass, it feels so fucking good. Not quite hitting that all-star spot but grazing just enough to drive him nuts. 

He thinks he's gone blind or stupid probably because, by the time he opens his eyes again, Steve's pressed up against him. His one hand pins Bucky's to the wall while the other lines his cock up to sink in. 

"You wanna uh, should I use a safeword or…" Bucky asks with his face pressed to the wall.

"You tell me to stop, and I stop. Simple."

"Now why the fuck would I do that??"

Steve's lips twitch against Bucky's back, "You good to go?"

Bucky lets his limbs relax, knowing he's about to get dicked down like he's never been before. "Mr. Rogers. _Please."_ he puts on a little whine to his voice, acts it up just a bit. 

Lord, and if he thought Steve's fingers were a treat, he's got a whole other thing coming when he feels that thick head press into him and sink deep without pause. 

"Holy! Fucking—"

Steve pulls back a little and works it in with a slam, "What? You gonna moan about it, sweetheart?" 

Bucky, slack mouth and gasping at the incredible fullness, shakes his head, says, "Move! Please move, you gotta—" 

And Steve fucking moves alright. He slides it out all the way and starts fucking back with a vengeance.

Bucky braces his hands against the wall for better grip since his legs feel like liquid and Steve's about to fuck them both off the face of the earth. 

This time, with his dick thrusting in deep, he for sure hits Bucky's prostate. Bucky no longer knows what English is or how to form words, all he's able to do is gasp and twitch and whine. 

"What? Hm? What're you moaning about James?" Steve bends his knees, shoves his hips up hard to prompt an answer Bucky is trying but failing to give. "Tell me."

But he's so high on it right now, practically adrift, crowded up against this fucking wall with Steve Rogers so deep in his ass he can taste him.

All he can think of is that he wants more, deeper, "Harder!! Go—oh, god!—go harder."

Steve groans and bites the back of Bucky's neck, wraps his arm around Bucky's middle. "Tiny fucking waist. So fucking..."

Steve squeezes him so hard, thrusts up even harder and then keeps precisely that pace. Bucky's cheek is bumping into the wall, again and again, probably looks stupid as hell with his mouth all open and panting for air.

"Gonna fucking break you baby. God..." Steve grunts, awfully close to a whine, "You take it so well don't ya, I can go all day and you ain't gonna complain, huh?" Steve grunts pleased into Bucky's hair, "So. Fucking. Good."

Bucky's neck and chest go hot, and his balls tighten, "Oh fuck..." he moans, drops his head, and doesn't know if he's about to come or cry or do both. "What..."

"Yeah, you heard me. So fucking good, tight little ass, so pretty baby." He wraps a fist up in Bucky's hair, pulls back hard so Bucky's neck curves.

From his tone, it's obvious that Steve's cottoned on that Bucky likes being talked up like that, likes hearing how good he is.

Bucky makes a ridiculous sound, feels his back arch at this angle, and it fucking hurts so good combined with Steve's erratic thrusts. He's going to be walking all wrong tomorrow, and the fact that he's looking forward to that says it all.

He's still daydreaming about that when Steve pulls out abruptly. "Gonna come. Gonna fucking come." He says all breathless and warm in Bucky's neck.

Bucky can feel Steve's heart thud against his back. He's running his hands along Bucky's sides, sometimes digging his blunt nails in and it sends white sparks of pleasure up his spine. 

"Ain't that kinda the point?" Bucky breathes desperate and empty, starting to tremble with want. 

"Hm..." Steve's voice is just about a growl, so low and chilling it makes Bucky's stomach feel knotty. "Like back talking, huh? Does that usually get you what you want?"

Bucky shivers out a moan, not the yes or no that Steve's looking for.

Steve leans down, yanks on his hair and whispers in his ear, "I asked you something." And his finger slips into Bucky, tugging on his rim, and then even quieter he says, "Answer me, James."

Bucky is fucking floating, and the only word he can think of right now is, please. Please, please, please. Doesn't even register himself saying it, only hears Steve snort behind him, his fat dick sliding back in with no warning, alongside his finger.

"Jesus!" Bucky braces his hands against the wall, tries to accustom his ass to the extra stretch.

"Jesus ain't fucking you, sweetheart." Steve growls, snaps his hips up so hard Bucky sees white, "I am."

Then Steve pulls his finger out of Bucky, releases his hair, and gets hold of his hips. Makes a goddamn show of slamming Bucky down on his dick. 

His body, Bucky realizes, is now totally under Steve's control, pliant and sweaty in his iron grip. Helpless, if he's frank, against this giant at his back. And he's never been more turned on in his life. 

Steve goes fast, really hard, fucks him solid and the sounds coming from their mouths are just pure filth. Bucky whines at how Steve's thumbs press into his lower back, digging into the bone.

And by now he's sure someone must have heard them if he can only bring himself to care.

Steve slides his hands up Bucky's sides, reaches around to his nipples and rubs, "You're gonna come without a hand on that dick of yours. You're gonna do it soon too, cause I'm about to blow."

Bucky nods and leans back onto Steve. "Kiss me..." he says, tilting his head back on Steve's shoulder.

There's a brief moment of respite where Steve falters, head snapping to Bucky. And goddamnit, he knows men like Steve ain't into this sappy shit. He knows this is purely physical, that's what they agreed on. But Bucky has never been fucked like this, never been so totally and incomprehensibly consumed with what another person does to him.

He's willing to pretend. Just for now. Just a little.

"Come on. Kiss me."

Steve gasps, a quick intake of air, and curls one of those huge hands around Bucky's throat, turns his head and licks over his lips instead. Not a kiss but more than nothing. Still filthy enough to get Bucky's blood pumping to all the right places.

Bucky opens his mouth and Steve hooks a finger in there, and what can Bucky do but suck it? Which apparently was the right thing to do judging by Steve's groan.

"Come." Steve says, "Come on, let me see you shoot off, baby. Bet you're even fuckin' prettier when you come." Steve's hand curls under Bucky's chin, his hips slamming home, hitting blinding spots.

More so is what Steve's telling him, every little praise, each compliment, the way he's tearing Bucky apart because he wants him that much.

"Oh shit!" Bucky sucks in a deep breath and feels that bone-deep heat spread all over him, ears full of white static and Steve's breathing.

"Goddamn... goddamn, look at _you_..." Steve says in awe, and his grip on Bucky slackens just a bit as he watches. It's a quick thing, though. "Fuck!" Steve goes, and starts making up for those spent seconds, fucks hard and fast into Bucky.

He's already dizzy and getting kind of sensitive, and Steve's plastered to his back, thrusting and rolling into him, hungry, desperate, pushing Bucky's face into the wall now. Shit. If Steve keeps it up, he might even come again.

It's a lot. It's almost too much, and he's so close to crying out when Steve lets out a long, deep groan and tenses up when he comes. He wishes he could feel that wet, heat jetting out into him, leaking out of him.

Steve noses at the back of his neck, breathing heavy, he sways a little from side to side like he's slow dancing. Dick still in Bucky. "Fuck. So good. You were so good."

And he kisses the top of Bucky's shoulder.

Steve pulls out slow, and Bucky misses those large hands on him as soon as they fall away. Feels spent and shaky and like this shouldn't be over yet.

"Christ." he steadies himself against the wall, willing his knees to stand.

Steve ties off the condom, throws it in the trash, and smooths his hair back. God, he looks so good with his cheeks all pink and the hair not quite going where they should, flopping into his eyes like that. 

So different from the put together and wound up guy he met at first.

He's starting to button up his shirt and waistcoat, his semi-soft dick still hanging out of his pants, and Bucky clamps down on the urge to sink to his knees and suck him off. He gets dressed instead.

When he's done, Steve is sitting at his desk again, nose already back in the stack of papers. The office floor outside of Steve's is dark now, Bucky is kind of wistful about leaving. Doesn't want to leave Steve here by himself with that ever-present scowl on his face. There's something different about that scowl now, not jacked up anymore just… just distant, closed off. Like he knows he's about to be left alone. 

But Bucky has to get going, he's shaking like a leaf after getting fucked like that. Better gain some composure before he embarrasses himself.

He walks over to the large mahogany desk, leans against it beside Steve, the way Steve had done when they started this, but keeps his trembling hands in his pockets. Steve's eyes are sharp blue in the glow of his desk lamp.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Bucky says with a grin he can't help, with a promise in his tone, with a little uncertainty too. 

Steve makes something that looks like a smile, but it's not, it's a practiced thing. "See you tomorrow," he says and reaches up to Bucky's lips, rubbing over them with the pad of his thumb.

Bucky sighs, it feels good, Steve's touch feels good. Better than it probably should for being a casual fuck. He could lean down and just… but Bucky is not going to try and kiss him. That's not how this works. Instead, he winks and pushes off the desk.

Halfway to the door, Steve says, "James,"

And Bucky spins around, way too quick, way too hopeful, "Hm?"

Steve's leaning back in his chair, pen tapping the corner of his mouth, "Wear a tie tomorrow, for god's sake." he still doesn't smile, but his voice does.

Fuck this guy, Bucky thinks and bites his lip. He juts his chin out at Steve, "Uh-huh." and then he's out of there.

He'll wear a fucking tie, alright.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day he shows up at work, and Nat knows the minute she sees him that he got dicked down good and proper. Fuck, he still feels it in all his muscles, his cheekbone feels tender where it was so deliciously banged into the wall, his back, his thighs… his uhm… yeah. 

Point is, everything aches as a delicious reminder of what Steve did to him. So good, so thorough, he wouldn't forget it even if he didn't ache.

"Oh my god. You _actually_ fucked him." She tips her coffee cup into her mouth, and it's funny the way she says something that sounds enthusiastic but she doesn't manage to look it. 

"I'm being discreet," he answers without really answering. Although Nat won't say a damn thing, he knows. 

Nat's eyes go a little wide, "Oh!" she whispers, "It's like that?"

Bucky winks, glances over at the frosted glass doors and starts to imagine what Steve's wearing today. He wonders if he'll have that stupid waistcoat on again, that white shirt that makes his tits bulge. 

Probably he'll look like a perfume add again, and Bucky can't wait. 

On the subject of clothes: Bucky fiddles with his collar. He grins about the lack of a tie he was so seriously instructed to wear. Steve is going to blow his pretty little hot head right off. Fuck ties, he thinks, grinning. 

They're in a meeting a couple of hours later, and it's the first time that day they see each other after Steve nailed him into his office wall like a framed certificate. 

Steve, of course, doesn't look at Bucky despite him clearing his throat repeatedly and shifting his pen and notebook around. No, Steve's got a perfect poker face going as if he wasn't breathing hot and dirty things into Bucky's ear the night before.

There's a brief moment that his granite veneer falters and he peeps at Bucky, real quick, but it's enough to make Natasha kick him under the table with giddiness, and he thinks: _Lady, me too. Me fuckin' too._

But it's also that moment that Steve realizes that, yes, Bucky's wearing a neat and tailored suit today, one that should very obviously have been accompanied by a tie… Which it is clearly not. 

So the next time Steve looks at him, his eyes fall right to Bucky's open collar. Steve starts drumming his fingers on the boardroom table, then licks his lips. His face does a very attractive thing when he lifts a single brow at Bucky that no one would question unless they knew. 

"Oh. My. God." Natasha murmurs under her breath, obviously suffocating in the tension. "Oh my _god_."

Bucky fucking smirks like he just won the lotto. 

For the duration of the meeting, Steve looks at everyone around the table while he's leading the meeting, Bucky gets an extra icy glare for his insubordination. And man, the way his blood boils, the way his cheeks flush at the thought of what Steve will do about it. God. 

The rest of the day feels far too long, and Steve is nowhere in sight, the last time Bucky saw him, he had headed up to Mr. Stark's office with his ass looking stupid good in his slacks. Nat offered him a tissue and said, "Got a little—" then gestured to his mouth. 

Fuck, does anyone blame him for drooling? 

That man is… a daydream if he's honest about it. He could fall in fucking love, and Steve might bulldoze him if he does, but he'll goddamn thank him. 

The clock hits six, eventually, and the office empties. Bucky turns to Natasha, "You gotta do me a favor." 

"I am not recording you having sex," she says, typing, not looking at him. "I gotta draw the line somewhere, Barnes."

Bucky is silent a little too long because he's actually thinking about that.

"Barnes!"

"What!? No! Jesus. Just.. I need your help." he hisses and nods for her to follow him to the break room.

"Have you lost your mind??" Natasha says about his plan.

"Maybe." he waves her off, "It's fine. Will piss him off." Bucky's says and holds his hands out to her. "Just do it."

Natasha frowns at him, "The guy's always pissed, Barnes, why would you want to—" she catches on, seeing Bucky's tell-all smirk. "—oh god!! Oh, you're gross."

"I'm smart." he corrects because he is, "Have you _had_ angry sex??" Steve will take one look at him like this, at his utter defiance and first, he'll give Bucky that scalding hot glare, he knows, and it'll be enough to get him all wet. Who knows after that. Who fuckin' knows. But his head is buzzing with anticipation.

"I'll come to peel you off the floor later." she gives his cheek a playful slap, "See you at home. Be safe."

Natasha slips out of the breakroom, and when Bucky leaves a couple of minutes later, the floor is dark, devoid of activity. He sneaks his way to Steve's office and into the frosted 'S.G Rogers' doors. As if the guy even needs a name on his door, Bucky's sure even the rival firms know whose fucking office this is.

He wiggles himself onto Steve's desk, almost tips over, but manages to perch just right, so he's in Steve's direct line of sight when he enters.

Bucky's insides thrum, he's jittery in a good way, stomach all hollow with nerves and his cheeks feel warm about his boldness. Something about Steve brings it out in him; perhaps it's got something to do with wanting to make him happy. Hell, maybe he's happy already in his own weird, peppery way, but Bucky wants to be the source of it. Simple as that.

It's not a long wait. Bucky thought Steve would be up there with the other partners much longer but the door handle creaks making Bucky's stomach flip as it opens, but, instead of getting hot and turned on, he freezes and wants to die.

Because that's not Steve. 

Tony Stark, to Bucky's horror, is staring at him with an open mouth and his wide eyes dart down to Bucky's lap where his hands are bound together with a red silk tie.

God fucking damn it.

"Uhh…" he garbles with no semblance of intelligence while Stark's grin starts growing wider and wider. He feels the slightest wave of relief for that at least.

"Hey buddy," Stark says, sticks his hand up in an awkward wave, looking like he's about to burst into a fit of laughter. "I'll tell Steve you're waiting." and with a wink, he closes the door.

"No!! Wai—" Oh, fuck. Great. Just… great. Bucky drops his head, fucking terrific. _This, Barnes, this is what you get for being a perpetually thirsty asshole. _

He's got two options here, but since Natasha was Camp Rogers in this scenario and tied him up so good he's sure they'll need scissors to get him free, he guesses pulling loose and running away is really not an option at all.

The alternative: Wait for Steve—helpless, ass planted on his desk like a centerpiece—and hope for the best.

Thank god, if there even is such a thing at this point, that he didn't get naked too.

The door flies open about half a minute later, and Steve in all his huge, bearded demigod glory is standing there with an expression that says he didn't expect Stark to be telling the truth.

His mouth drops open; it's kind of cute the way he almost lets himself smile. Almost. He rains it back in and shuts the door behind him, even through the thick beard Bucky can tell he's clenching his jaw. His composure dangles by a thin little thread. It's goddam beautiful.

Oh, this is good. Good enough to get him railed into next week.

Bucky squirms, yes a grown fucking man squirming, as Steve takes leisured steps toward him. He unbuttons his jacket and puts his hands on his hips, so his ridiculous pecs show through the white shirt. He could honestly benefit from a few looser shirts and oh god Steve's so close now, standing right in front of him like a massive mountain of a shadow. Bucky sure knows how to pick them.

Bucky is so fucking ready and terrified all at once. His dick also won't stop piping up hence the squirming, and Steve is staring at him all broody and predatory probably waiting for a damn clarification of some sort.

"I wore a tie," he says with a meek little grin-shrug combo, after countless seconds of tensity. He offers his bound wrists up as an explanation.

Steve's licks his lips. Bucky copies the movement without really meaning to, but his attention is all fixed on Steve's gorgeous face now. Can't help it.

Steve's eyes go icy blue around the expanding black of his pupil; it's quite the thing to see. He reaches out and traces a finger over the red tie. "Yeah you did huh," he says and yanks Bucky closer using his bound wrists, forcing his thighs open with his own, "You fucking wore a tie."

Just his voice, just the sweet rumble of it has Bucky breathing funny, heart racing against his pulse points. "I'm sorry about Mr. Stark, didn't think anyone else would come in here."

Steve brings his hands up to Bucky's neck, shakes his head, but his eyes stay fixed on Bucky's mouth, "You think Tony doesn't fuck his fair share upstairs?"

"Bet they don't present quite like this, huh," Bucky says and lifts his wrists, feeling kind of stupid until Steve's hand slips between his legs and starts rubbing.

"Was still a pretty cocky thing to do, James."

"Bucky," he whispers, falling into the touch, letting himself relax.

"Yeah. I'm not calling you Bucky."

Steve looms over him, and it forces Bucky to lie back, which is great to get his legs open even further and allow Steve's hand to slide down to his ass. He presses his thumb between Bucky's ass cheeks, through the material, and rubs. Bucky thinks he's going mad.

"Was having drinks upstairs, you know," Steve says, voice quiet, real quiet, Bucky can only hear him because he's nosing along Bucky's clean-shaven jaw with his coarse beard.

"Have drinks with me instead." Bucky breathes and closes his eyes. He can't be accountable for the shit he says right now.

"Hmm. Gonna do something else with you, I think."

"Do your worst." Bucky grins up at him and sees that fire spark up behind Steve cool blues. 

Steve brings Bucky's wrists up above his head and presses them down flat on the desk. He kisses all the way down Bucky's neck, and Bucky's on the verge of crazy with the prickles of Steve's beard along his skin and his massive bear paw of a hand rubbing him up over his clothes.

Steve's hard too, Bucky can feel it against his thigh. "Steve." he tries and arches his back up.

"Shh. Shhh." Steve squeezes Bucky's wrists, bites his neck, and obviously Bucky's insides pound for this. He is honestly so fucking easy.

He spends another couple of minutes on his back with Steve kissing his neck, his ear, his jaw, every fucking thing but his mouth. Fuck, he really wants to know what Steve's mouth on his would feel like, just wants to know if he kisses like he fucks or if he's gentle then.

Doesn't get time to find out because Steve orders him onto his stomach and he moves before he even realizes it. _Overeager much?_

"Perfect," Steve mumbles his assent, possibly at Bucky's quick compliance... or his ass. Could be both, he's not sure. He does have a great ass...

Steve's digging around in his desk drawer with one hand, the other hand pulling Bucky's pants down, and then there's the crackling of the condom wrapper and lube followed by two of Steve's fingers.

Bucky writhes, rests his head against the table, "Oh fuck!"

"You okay?" Steve asks, Bucky's nods and could swear Steve almost sounds amused if he didn't know any better. Right now though he doesn't know shit. 

Steve's fingers are twisting around in his ass, and he's jacking himself with his other hand. 

Bucky tries to crane his neck back to see, but the position doesn't allow it.

"What?"

"Just… Please? Can you just—"

His fingers retract in an instant, and his dick slips inside instead, "Since you asked so nicely. Sure."

Bucky laughs and gasps and moans probably too loud as Steve drives down to the hilt and keep himself there, nuzzled deep inside. He only moves his hips about an inch, if that, and presses down on Bucky's back.

"Fuck. Goddamnit. You gonna keep me waiting like this or what??"

"Brat," Steve grumbles, a little too pleased and shifts the tiniest inch again. 

Bucky has never felt so frustrated and desperate and borderline insane. "Steve Steve Steve come on, please come on!"

"Oh, _now_ it's Steve-"

"Mr. Rogers!!! Fuck, Mr. Rogers, please."

Steve leans down low, right beside Bucky's ear, "Fucking _brat._"

Bucky is about to say, "You love it," but Steve pulls back and slams right in again, he's got no 'slow & gradual' setting whatsoever, but Bucky sort of loves it- the jolting sparks of pain-pleasure it sends up his spine. He can take it too. Wasn't talking shit when he told Steve to do his worst.

Steve remembers that, too, apparently. Soon his hands are wrapped around Bucky's waist, and he's muttering about how tiny it is again, how pretty. 

Bucky flushes hot down his neck and probably his back too because Steve makes a pleased noise an adjusts his angle a bit then starts fucking him like he means it.

Bucky wants to grab onto something for purchase, but his hands are tied up, and his body's jerking against the desk from Steve's thrusts and all he can get hold of are his own hands.

"Yeah," Steve rumbles behind him like he knows, "Just gonna have to ride it out."

His hips are slamming and grinding into the edge of the desk, but it's not painful since all the sensation his body has currently gone to his dick and ass, and besides he kind of gets off on it.

Steve's rough with him, without actually hurting him, just savage enough to have Bucky gasping and getting all bothered down south. He wonders if Steve's going to make him come untouched again.

This time though, Steve reaches around, lips against Bucky's back and starts jerking him off.

He's fast and skilled about it, doesn't lose pace and whispers to Bucky, "God, you're beautiful, look at that mouth." Bucky's aware of his parted lips, dumb with how good it feels, but wonders in the back of his mind if Steve's saying that to get him off or if that's how he truly feels.

You'd think if he liked Bucky's mouth that much he'd fucking kiss him some.

"Beautiful," Steve whispers again and rests his lips against Bucky's cheek, and Bucky flushes red hot despite not knowing if Steve means it, he's about to come, he doesn't care. Words are enough.

"Go hard!" Bucky cries out when he's tipping over the edge, and Steve happily obeys, shoving into him so hard, jerking his cock exactly right, breathing into his neck that Bucky enters another sphere when he comes.

"Yeah fuck, that's it," he growls and strokes Bucky until he's done, shivering, and swiftly hauls him up. Steve spins them around, so he's on the edge of the desk and has Bucky in his lap. 

How is he even holding Bucky up like this, like it's nothing? Christ.

The tips of Bucky's toes hardly reach the floor, but Steve's hands are all over him, riding up under his shirt, nails dragging along his ribs. Steve lifts Bucky off his dick and licks at his shoulder blade.

"Get on your knees," he says with a hand in Bucky's hair.

Bucky is spent and shaky; he's eager to rest his legs.

"Look at me," Steve says low and almost too quiet to hear. 

Steve's taken off the condom, and has his dick pointed right at Bucky. And fuck, those large hands look good around it, he wants to take a fucking picture and frame it, sleep with it every night. Instead, he looks up at Steve.

"Open up for me, gorgeous." Steve hooks his thumb into Bucky's mouth, and he opens as Steve asked.

Then he slides his dick in slow, Bucky and Steve both moan and Steve cups the back of his head gently with one hand and his cheek with the other. 

There's a quick moment when they lock eyes, Bucky blinks and swallows, and Steve's gaze goes from hard and hungry to slightly confused and soft, begging almost. Bucky doesn't know what the hell it is, but it makes the urge to suck this man dry, flood him warm from the inside out.

It's fleeting though, and a second later Bucky's getting his face fucked. Steve goes fast, greedy, unrelenting but his hand on Bucky's cheek is soft, rubbing a circle into his cheekbone.

Steve's eyes are almost liquid, hair falling out of place, cheeks light pink. He bites his lip and looks at Bucky like that again, like Bucky's doing him a favor, then softly says, "Gonna come, sweetheart."

Bucky nods then, blinking his wet eyes up at Steve and breathes through his nose. His tongue works the underside of Steve's dick, his throat spasm around it, his tied hands resting in his naked lap.

Steve comes just then, and they stare at each other as he slows down and eventually pulls out.

Steve helps him up and sits him up on the desk, cuts the tie loose and rubs Bucky's wrists in his hands, kisses the insides. 

And okay, this is progress. This is intimate in a way Steve hasn't been with him up until now.

Bucky feels flooded with emotion that he tries to clamp down, but he starts shivering when Steve leans down and licks tender kisses over the bruised spots on his hips.

"It's blue." Steve mumbles against his skin, then even quieter, "Sorry."

"Hm, it's okay." he says half incoherent, "Like it." and Steve hums, sealing his mouth over a hipbone.

Bucky swallows, cautiously letting his hands slide into Steve's hair. It's so soft, a little long like Bucky's, and he's so pleased when Steve sighs and leans into it.

But it's time to go shortly after, and Steve has drawn back into himself, tender eyes wiped away and replaced by a scowl again. 

Bucky's heart sinks.

He should probably call this off, he thinks. Yeah. Before mind-blowing sex becomes a one-sided broken heart because that's sorely where this is heading.

He pulls up his trousers and fixes his hair, "That was great, thanks Steve." he says way too solemnly for his liking, but he purposely doesn't say 'see you tomorrow' There might not be tomorrow. 

"Hey," says Steve while Bucky's deep in thought. "Do you…" he clears his throat like he's struggling to speak, "Do you wanna have dinner with me tomorrow?"

Bucky grins so hard he can't see. Steve bites back his own smile and looks down.


	3. Chapter 3

There's a shiny, fancy gift bag and a small card on his desk when Bucky gets to work the next morning.

Nat has that look on her face as she puts her bags and coffee down, waiting for Bucky to open it. 

He pulls out the stuffing and reaches inside. It's a brand new red silk tie since his old one was cut to pieces the night before and now lies discarded in Steve's wastebasket.

The card reads: _"Fucking wear it." _

Bucky tries not to smile too hard at the frosted glass doors, but he can hardly help it. And Natasha, as much as she acts tough, also grins from ear to ear. 

They've got a meeting that Stark heads up in one of the conference rooms that morning. It's primarily about the firm's regional clients and foreign accounts, and naturally Stark starts the meeting with:

"We have to be cognizant of our _ties_," he pauses and looks pointedly at Bucky, then Steve before continuing, "in and around the country." 

Bucky snorts, way too loud, and covers it up by pretending to sneeze. Steve glares a hole into his notepad and he's the color of the new tie he bought Bucky. 

Tony goes on to say, "—have to remember that we are _bound_," and again he looks at Bucky, "by these terms, unconditionally." 

Bucky wants this meeting to end so that he can go on lunch and break into hysterics with Natasha about this and the exhausted look on Steve's face. Right now he can't even look at Nat, or he'll have a breakdown here at this table. All he knows is that she's sitting with her hand over her mouth and that's enough.

Scott from finance frowns and looks like a lost puppy the way he tips his head to the side. 

When the meeting finally ends an hour later after several more stabs at the two of them, Steve shakes his head then pinches the bridge of his nose. 

Bucky's the last one to leave and on his way out, he drags his finger along Steve's upper back and closes the door behind him but not before he hears Steve say, _"Tony, what in the ever-loving fuck."_

Bucky and Natasha barely make it to their desks before they collapse with laughter. The rest of the day is a total nightmare in terms of keeping a straight face when looking at Nat and getting a semi whenever Steve comes out of his office.

Bucky's not the only one who notices that Steve's not wearing waistcoat today and that he loosened his tie, unbuttoned his collar too. Also didn't miss that dorky little salute he gave the courier guy.

He doesn't blame half the office for gossiping about Mr. Rogers being day drunk. They've probably never seen the dude slip even an ounce of control, and now he's strutting about with a loose tie?? The obscenity. 

After work, when Bucky's doing some actual fucking work, and Nat is long gone, he's surprised to look up and find Steve leaning against the doorframe staring at him. 

"Kinda creepy," he mumbles and carries on working, but his stomach does a low swoop and some tingly nonsense he thought only happens in romance novels. 

Steve comes over and lays his palm on the back of Bucky's neck, "Kinda cocky." he says and squeezes a bit, just enough to let Bucky know what he's in for, for the rest of the night. "Ready to go?" 

"Yeah, meet you there? Just send me the location." Bucky says since someone might spot them together. 

Steve pulls Bucky's chair out, holds his jacket for him to put on. "It's fine. Let's go." 

Bucky blinks at him like a dumbass, "But—"

And Steve swings one massive arm around Bucky's shoulder, he says, "I'm the boss. I do who I want." 

"_What_, you mean. You do _what_ you want." 

For the first time, Steve fucking Rogers smiles at Bucky. It's breathtaking. "That too." 

He cooks Bucky dinner barefoot in his work slacks, and he has the first four buttons of his shirt undone showing off furls of dark hair. And honest to god: Bucky's never seen something as beautiful in his life. 

There's something about Steve now—maybe it's him in his own environment, in private—something soft and quiet and content. It's in the way he lets Bucky taste the sauce from the spoon, the way he cleans the little spill on Bucky's chin and looks at him with those bright blue eyes that don't really know what they're doing. 

Bucky tries to lean in for a kiss, and Steve leans away, again diverting his lips to Bucky's neck instead. 

Quietly Bucky asks, "Why do you do that?" And Steve doesn't move from his neck; he only sighs softly.

"Makes it serious when it shouldn't be," Steve says and comes up to meet Bucky's eyes. They're so blue, sky blue, guarded by those long lashes.

"You're cooking me dinner, baby," Bucky all but whispers, curling his legs around Steve's waist, "I'm sitting on your kitchen counter with my hand in your hair… I think it's pretty serious already."

Steve's frowning again, Bucky wonders where his head goes when he looks like this, but Steve licks his lips and stares at Bucky's mouth.

If Bucky didn't know any better, he'd think the guy's preparing for a standoff the way his shoulders tense up before he slides one of those massive hands along Bucky's jaw and leans forward.

He kisses Bucky. The thing is, it's bliss, absolute, and inexplicable bliss. Steve makes this little noise that is something between wounded and relieved as if he was expecting something horrible but was pleasantly surprised instead.

Bucky thinks, huh, Steve doesn't kiss like he fucks after all. He kisses like it's sacred, like Bucky's lips bruise easily. Steve tastes and explores and takes his sweet time necking. 

He pushes up against Bucky and pulls him close, so Bucky doesn't hold back. With clumsy fingers, he undoes the rest of Steve's buttons and gives his pecs a firm squeeze, lets his fingertips ghost over Steve's nipples and he watches him shudder. 

Somewhere between hauling Bucky up off the counter, Steve switches the stove off and gets them both to his bedroom. Bucky doesn't pay much attention; Steve's lips are finally on his own.

The way things usually go when they do this, Bucky sort of expects to be roughed onto the bed and flipped over, then ravaged and fucked out of his mind. 

That's what he expects…

But what happens is Steve sets him down gently on the mattress and slides his bulk of a body over Bucky's then gets back to kissing him. Steve's rush is quiet now, unhurried and he's heavy on top of Bucky. It's a welcoming weight that Bucky will gladly suffocate under.

After a long while of making out, Steve starts grinding into him, rubbing their dicks together through their pants. That friction is almost too much, too intense. 

But Steve starts undressing him a second later until Bucky is spread naked beneath him, only for Steve to dip down and start grinding his clothed body against all of Bucky's bare skin. This time Steve doesn't pin his hands down or flip him over onto his stomach.

It's not long before Steve's hand slides down between Bucky's legs and he is pleasantly surprised to find Bucky had already been playing down there.

"Christ. Are you wearing a plug?" Steve's face is priceless when he looks up at Bucky and feels the smooth, rounded tip of it between his cheeks.

Bucky only spreads his legs wider, wraps a hand around himself and gives a few teasing strokes, "Thought I'd spare some time. Make your job easier."

Steve's so impressed he smiles again—it's a rarity, so Bucky's going to appreciate the hell out of it when it does happen—and gradually pulls the plug out, leaving Bucky empty after being stuffed full all day.

"You wore this all day?" Steve says in that familiar growly tone of voice.

"Uh huh." Bucky nods, bites his lip because he's still jerking himself and Steve's getting all broody again. 

"Hmm. Imagined it was me instead? Imagined sitting down and warming it for me?"

"Fuck." Bucky smiles, shifts his hips down into the mattress.

Steve makes a pleased sound, "That's the plan, sweetheart." He's watching Bucky so intently it's like he's forgotten they were about to do something real important here.

"You gonna let me lie here naked all by myself huh, big guy?" Bucky teases, arches up a little to press himself against Steve's body.

Steve pinches Bucky chin, says, "This mouth's gonna get you in trouble someday." He sits up to take his shirt off, and _damn_ Bucky bites down on his lip so hard. This man is something crafted by gods, he thinks.

A needy groan escapes him when Steve substitutes the plug with two of his fingers, tugging and stretching just a little. And it's not that he needs to prep Bucky anymore, he could probably take a fist right now, Steve's just playing. 

Bucky sighs and arches his back, and under his palms, Steve's shoulder flexes as he works his fingers into Bucky. 

Steve comes up, kisses him again and it's just soft, warm tenderness he didn't know this man had in him. 

"Come on," Bucky whispers, "Fuck me." while Steve slides a condom on.

Steve's fingers slip out of him, and he inches up on the mattress. He shakes his head. "Not tonight." 

Bucky is about to protest hell and high water when Steve slips his cock into Bucky and sighs so beautifully and blissful as he sinks home, that Bucky can't even muster up a reply. 

Then he gets it. When Steve starts moving slow and steady, when he throws Bucky's leg over his shoulder to get deeper, then Bucky gets it. 

They aren't fucking tonight. This—these languid thrusts, the soft sighs, hands entwined, getting all sweaty and worked up—this is something else. 

There's nothing fast and dirty about it this time. It's something that builds and builds between their bodies, sloppy, off-centered kisses, and Steve sucking marks into Bucky's skin. It's something substantial and anchoring when Bucky reaches up and strokes Steve's hair out of his face. 

Steve turns his head and kisses the inside of Bucky's palm. "Hey, Buck." He murmurs a little breathlessly, and goddamn smiles again.

"Hey, Mr. Rogers," Bucky says, and Steve laughs. And god, ain't that something, so rough and deep and almost out of place compared to the Steve he met a week or so ago. 

Steve's eyes crinkle in the corners, he looks at Bucky with a gentle fondness, "You wanna come for me, sweetheart?" 

Bucky sucks in a breath, "Yeah." And suddenly his hips are lifted off the bed by one of Steve's arms so he's arched backward and Steve's other hand comes up to his mouth. 

"Come on gorgeous," Steve urges against the slick skin of Bucky's chest, still fucking him slow, "Can you get off on the slow stuff hm? Or do you need it mean and fast?"

Bucky moans around Steve's fingers, his dick drizzles come all along his hipbone, and he can only garble his response since he's stuffed from all fucking angles. This is still pretty fucking filthy, thanks, Steve. 

"Aw look at that, my pretty baby. Gettin' all wet for me." Steve probably sees the trail of drool Bucky's dick is leaving behind. And yeah, he can do with a few harder thrusts, get his prostate rendered numb but he can pretty much live off this intimacy for the rest of his days. 

_"Your_ pretty baby, huh?" Bucky shivers and leaves a long scratch along Steve's bicep. Steve's so deep in him, he can hardly breathe, but when he does all he feels is euphoria. 

All he feels is the goddamn drag of Steve's dick, every press of his fingers into Bucky's skin, his mouth, his rough beard.

Steve goes a little pink when Bucky cranes his neck up to look at him, "Yeah. I mean… if you wanna?" He says with a shy little smirk as if he's not driving Bucky toward a splitting orgasm. 

Bucky's gotta laugh at this huge dope. A big tough guy like this—built like a fucking tank who walks around perpetually pissed off—can't even ask a fella out with a little more conviction. 

"Do I wanna what, Rogers?" 

He gets a raised eyebrow for his cheek, but apparently, Steve likes it, except that he gives him a quick and hard thrust before lazing back into his slow grind.

"Stay" Steve says and kisses the curve of Bucky's pec, "Make this a thing," he licks over a nipple, then bites, and when Bucky yelps and squirms, Steve says, "be my guy, let me fuck your brains out every night, kiss your brat mouth every morning, spoil you rotten…"

Bucky laughs, curls his fist into Steve's hair, "How 'bout you make me come first, then we talk, huh?"

And that makes Steve laugh, but he complies and starts jerking Bucky off, finally, and jesus it's good. It's so good; Bucky is so gone. 

Steve hugs him close and tells him, "God, you're perfect. Come, baby, for me." 

Their bodies are pressed flush together—Steve's chest against Bucky' s—when Bucky comes. He stutters some embarrassing rendition of Steve's name over and over, and soon Steve drops him back on the mattress, grabs his face, breathless and with a cute looking frown between his eyes.

Steve kisses him again when he rolls his hips one last time and shoots off. His lips are a gentle whisper against Bucky's mouth. His eyes are black diamonds. 

And at that moment he is entirely Bucky's. 

Later, Steve finishes that dinner for them. It's glorious, even better when he sits half-naked in Steve's lap and gets fed little bites while Steve stares at him like he's some ethereal being.

He plays with the long strands of Steve's hair that fall limp and soft against his forehead, and Bucky looks at the smile on his lips that now appears so easily. 

"I'll be your guy," he says. 

It surprises Steve a little like he forgot he even asked. But christ, the smile that follows. It's pure sunshine. 

"Yeah?! I mean," Steve clears his throat, makes a lame attempt at looking serious, "We're gonna have to fucking meet with H.R." 

And Bucky laughs so hard Steve has to stop him from falling back. 

He watches Steve lick sauce off his fingers with that love-happy smile on his face, and he thinks not wearing a tie to work was one of the best decisions he ever made.


End file.
